


the space between i love you and forever

by inmyfashion



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, MIKE LAWSON HUMAN DISASTER, Roommates to lovers, Slow Burn, after an i love you, ginny baker and actual ray of sunshine, seriously a slow slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-11-17 02:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmyfashion/pseuds/inmyfashion
Summary: what happens between i love you and forever?





	1. mine

“If you start snoring, I won't be responsible for what happens to you.”

Ginny teases, gratified to see the slight twitch of Mike’s beard around his mouth, and the way his cheeks rise just a bit.

He looks far less ashen than when she opened the door to him thirty minutes prior. His hairline is still a bit damp, but his eyes no longer look bloodshot even as waves of exhaustion flow from his body.

“I can sleep on your couch, rook,” he replies in a rough voice.

Ginny shakes her head. “No, you can't. I can barely lie down on that thing, so you definitely won't be able to. Ev made sure that I purchased a couch I wouldn't be able to camp out on.”

Mike grunts and moves his body further down Ginny’s bed. “I could sleep on the floor.”

“Why would you do that when I'm offering up a spot in my bed?” she asks before she can process how the question sounds.

Her cheeks tinge with pink as Mike’s eyes roam over her face.

“I suppose,” Mike begins. “You're probably right. I've already made a number of poor decisions lately. Don't think I'll add another one to the list.”

Ginny’s fingers brush across the lines on his forehead. “This wasn't your fault, Mike.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Rachel cheating isn't your fault.”

Mike closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I know that, but that's not what I mean.”

Ginny settles on her side and scoots in close to him. She rests an elbow beside the pillow he lays on and props her chin in the palm of her hand to look down at him. “What do you mean?”

When Mike’s eyes lock with hers, her heart stutters in her chest.

“I got back together with Rachel because it was familiar, and easy, all the while I had these big, developing feelings for someone else that I didn't know how to manage, and couldn't have. And shouldn't want. Because everything about her is special, and she deserves more than I can give her. And I don't even know if I’m what she wants, and I wouldn't blame her if I'm not. She deserves not to be ridiculed for getting involved with her aging captain who took too long to realize no one else on this planet makes him feel the way she does.”

Ginny takes a deep breath and rolls onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. The only sounds in the room for a long moment are of staggered breathing and the shift of limbs against the sheets.

Ginny gathers her courage and runs her hand down Mike’s arm until she reaches his hand. She laces their fingers together and the feeling of his relief is so strong it courses through her, too.

“I love you, Ginny,” Mike says softly. “And I don't need you to say it back, and we don't need to talk about it if you don't want. I know you have rules and it's not fair to maybe put you on the spot like this, but sometimes I'm a selfish son of a bitch, and I can't help it. I need you to know that. I'm tired of running from that.”

Ginny waits for the feeling of panic to consume her. For the terrifying, overwhelming feeling of too much that she often experiences with Mike; so she's surprised, elated at the warmth that spreads through her body at the assurance of his words. At the finality in what he says. He loves her.

She searches for the right thing to say. She loves him, but isn’t ready to say it at the moment. He must feel her searching for something because he tightens his grip on her hand and says, “It’s okay.”

“Thank you for letting me stay here tonight,” Mike continues as he shifts his broad body closer to her. “I hate everything about that house at the moment.”

Ginny turns her head and her voice gets caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. She nods and brings her free hand up to tug his beard which makes his cheeks plump and his eyes narrow when he smiles at her.

"You're always welcome here,” Ginny replies though she wants to say so much more. Instead, she twists her body and tucks herself into his side, untangling their fingers so she can rest her hand over his heart. “You're my best friend.”

She doesn't know if it'll be enough, if it'll convey the depth of her feelings for him, but when the rough tips of his fingers slide across her cheek, she knows they’ll be okay.

“You're mine, too, Ginny.”

And she knows he means that in every way.

_-1-_


	2. here

The clink of a pan against her stove and the ‘snick’ and ‘whoosh’ of the gas lighting should worry her, but there's only two people in the world who’d use a key to her house for her kitchen, and one of them is out of town.

“Mike?” she calls out even though she knows the answer.

“Kitchen, rook,” he replies. “Come make yourself useful.”

She rolls her eyes as she toes off her sneakers and drops her airpods on the little entryway table. She’d prefer a shower first, but knows Mike's request for her presence in her kitchen has zero to do with any skillful assistance she can provide.

He simply wants her company.

She pads across the open space and pauses for a moment when she reaches the edge of the kitchen island. Mike's at the stove, gently placing meatballs in a frying pan. They make a satisfying sizzle when the hit the surface and the small smile on Mike’s face indicates his pleasure at the sound.

He's barefoot and wearing a navy Padres tee and a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair is messy and without its usual styling products, like he's been running his fingers through it or just rolled out of bed.

It's a look Ginny truly loves.

“Hey,” she says to alert him to her presence.

“Hey,” he replies with a grin over his shoulder that's draped with a kitchen towel. “In from a run?” he asks as his eyes sweep down her body in a way that makes her belly quiver.

She nods and moves toward him. She stops next to him at the range, her Lycra covered hip and thigh flush with his left side. She bites her lip and tilts her head to the side to look at his face.

“This is the best kind of breaking and entering, by the way,” she snarks. “I've never had someone come into my house while I'm not here and start cooking.”

“It's not breaking and entering, Baker,” Mike returns. He shifts his hip and knocks into her side. “You gave me a key and your alarm code. And I'm not planning on stealing anything from you. A B&E requires intent...I think.”

“Mhmm.” She smiles up at him and her smile widens when he rolls his eyes. “I'm not complaining. It's been a real treat not to call for takeout these past few weeks, although I think Ryan is probably missing me.”

“Who the hell is Ryan?” Mike asks gruffly.

“My normal takeout guy from Bilal. Three weeks without seeing me has to have him concerned.”

Mike levels her with a wan look before he turns his attention back to the pan, rotating the meatballs to another side for them to cook.

“I know this is your domain,” Ginny begins. “But anything I can do to help?”

Mike shakes his head. “Everything's good here. The sauce is just waiting for the meatballs. I'll put the bread in when I do the pasta. So, no rook. You can relax and go change. Thirty minutes ‘til we eat.”

Ginny nods but doesn't leave right away. She likes the warmth that radiates from Mike, combined with the fragrant smell of basil, parsley, and garlic.

“You know you don't have to cook for me to come over,” she says softly.

Over the past few weeks—even since finding out about Rachel being unfaithful _again_ —Mike's found some reason to show up and stay. Maybe it's because of the holidays quickly approaching, or maybe it's just that she's a source of comfort for him, but Mike's used his key more readily in the past weeks than in the year and a half he's been in possession of it.

“I know.”

“You're welcome here anytime, old man.”

“I know that, too.” He throws her a smirk, an attempt at casual that falls just shy of the mark. She sees the relief on his face at her words. “It just seems a shame that this incredible kitchen and all these tools don't get used. Besides, if I don't keep using your oven, eventually you're going to start storing your 10,000 Nike leggings in here.” He reaches over and snaps the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

“Haha,” Ginny says as she pokes his side.

“It's also...hard to be in that house. I don't know what to do with myself there. I look around and see two sides of me, neither of which I like.” His eyes are focused on the skillet and turning the meatballs again. “When I'm here, I can just be me.” He shrugs, but Ginny understands what he doesn't say.

Ever since his confession—the _‘I love you’_ that Ginny hasn't said back—there's an unspoken _something_ that lies between them. It isn't bad, but it's heavy and deep and bound to drag them under sooner rather than later. There's also a familiarity born of nearly three years worth of being battery mates, but this is different.

She steps away from his side to stand behind him. She wraps her arms around his middle and presses her ear against his back. She takes in the way his heart speeds up and how his breath hitches.

“If you don't want to stay in that house, you don't have to, Mike,” she speaks against his back. “You can come stay here. I can put an actual bed in the guest room, or...whatever.”

Finding Mike curled up on her couch, or on the floor beside her bed (though he probably doesn't know she knows about that), or half hanging from the futon in the guest room is also a regular occurrence of late. He hasn't been back in her bed since that night, hasn't asked to be. It makes her second guess his confession for a split moment until she realizes he meant what he said—he simply wants what he feels out in the open without any expectation of what could come next.

His voice is muffled and low against her ear when he speaks. “I know I'm imposing enough as is, rookie. You don't have to offer up your home.”

She tightens her grip around his waist. “I wouldn't offer if it were an imposition. Plus, I don't know if you realize how appealing it is to have you as God intended—barefoot and cooking—when I get home.”

The laugh that rumbles out of him makes Ginny grin and her hands around his stomach get a healthy feel of his abs pressing against them through the thin layer of his tee.

“Only if you're sure, Gin,” he says softly once he settles down. The use of her first name points to the seriousness of what she's offering and what he's so close to accepting.

She drops her arms and moves back to his side to see his face when she nods. “I'm certain, Mike. You're home here.”

He nods and swallows hard, taking the finished meatballs from the frying pan and placing them into the dutch oven with the tomato sauce. “Okay. Thank you, Ginny.”

She shakes her head leans forward to brush her lips across his cheek. “No thanks necessary. I meant what I said, Mike, you're my best friend. Stay as long as you like.”

She squeezes his bicep before she takes a step back. A soft smile lights her face as Mike watches her with the same expression. “After we eat, we’ll go find a bed for upstairs. No more sleeping on the floor.”

Mike winces, but nods. “Whatever you say, rook.”

_-2-_


	3. more

As soon as Mike opens the door from the garage, he can tell something isn't quite right.

Ginny exists in a realm of frenetic energy. Even when she's still, what radiates from her is so vast and present and comforting that Mike knows she's around without her even having to say a word.

The stillness of the house, even though she's in it, is certainly troubling.

“Gin?” Mike calls out as he makes his way to the stairs at the back of the house. The creak of his knees and his footfalls on the wooden stairs are the only sounds that he hears as he makes his way to Ginny's room.

“Gin?” he calls again as he knocks on her slightly open room door. An inhale and a sniffle is his reply. “I’m coming in unless you tell me not to, rook.”

He waits for a moment and pushed open the door when no response comes. He swallows hard and moves more quickly than his aching body wants him to when he sees her perched on the end of her bed, tear streaks down her face.

He sits down on the plush mattress and wraps his arm around her. She drops her head against his shoulder and turns his shirt a little damp with tears.

Mike doesn't know how long they stay there like that. He brushes his lips across the top of her head and smiles when she wraps her arms around his waist, her fingers pressing against his side in a distracting way.

“My mom is selling our house,” Ginny says unprompted, her voice muffled against Mike’s chest. “She's moving in with Kevin and...she called to ask me if I want my stuff. If I want my dad’s stuff. And I…”

She starts to cry again in earnest, her fingers gripping harder against his side. Mike simply pulls her closer against him and rests his head over hers.

She tightens her arms around his waist and speaks in a low voice. “My mom cheated on my dad with Kevin.”

Mike starts at her words, muscle memory of the pain of finding out your wife’s been unfaithful.

Ginny pulls her face from his shirt and lets her hands drop from his waist. Mike runs his thumb down her cheek to wipe away the tears and try to soothe the angry crease mark from his shirt.

“Sorry,” she murmurs as she eyes his shirt.

Mike simply shrugs and reaches for her, wrapping his arms around her and tipping them back so they lie face to face on her duvet.

His thumb traces her stomach through her thin tee and she closes her eyes for a few moments just letting him do it.

“How'd you find out about your mom and Kevin?” Mike asks on a whisper the room demands.

Ginny's eyes pop open and flit across Mike’s face. He keeps his focus on her, lets her see whatever it is she needs, and she must because her shoulders drop and she moves her body closer to his.

“I saw them in our kitchen. I'd just...I had this choice to make, my dad told me I had to choose between baseball and being like every other girl.” She stops and snorts. “Looking back it was a really shitty thing to do. But, my mom had bought me this dress for the eighth-grade dance and I saw all these other girls going, excited to be asked, excited to do something so excessively normal and I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. And I was going to choose the dress, but then I got home and saw my mom—saw them—standing in the kitchen toe to toe. Touching. And I chose baseball instead of the pretty dress or the dance. And I kept my mom at arm’s length from then ‘til...well now I suppose.”

Ginny finishes with a negligent shrug, but Mike can feel the tenseness of her body and the pain that reflects through her eyes. He sees her trying to pull herself to rights, to keep it all in, but he won't let her carry this burden alone anymore.

“It's me, Gin,” he says staring into her face as tears start to leak again. “You don't have to pretend to be okay with me. I'll never use that against you. I swear.”

She nods once then moves until her body is flush with his, knocking Mike onto his back.

He grunts softly then lets out a small laugh as she uses his body like her personal pillow. He's never minded anything less.

She throws a leg over his waist and rests her head on a sturdy shoulder. Her ear is over his heart and she has one hand flat against the other side of his chest.

“I didn't understand it then,” she starts. The vibration of her voice against his sternum makes him shiver. “I don't really get it now, cheating is...I don't get it. Everyone gets hurt in that scenario and my mom and Kevin did this for years it seems. I stopped really talking to her after I saw them. I couldn't look at her. My dad wasn't what anyone would term affectionate, but did he deserve that?”

She stops and rubs her cheek against his chest. Mike’s vaguely reminded of a grumpy kitten.

“Anyway, she packed up my room and some of my dad's stuff and she wants me to come out and get it or come out and sort through it. I don't know, but I'm not doing it either way.”

“You don't want your dad’s stuff?” Mike asks in an incredulous tone. “Or your stuff?”

She shakes her head, or Mike thinks she does, against him. “It's old trophies and awards and stuff. It's not like I can fit any of the clothes still and I don't need scrapbooks of articles about ‘plucky girl pitcher Ginny Baker.’ I mean, it's no giant painting of myself in my house, but it feels pretty similar.”

“Smartass,” he returns with a pinch to her side. She giggles and squirms away from his hand before she settles against him.

“I don't think I can face it, Mike.” She threads a leg between his and Mike has to close his eyes and count to ten to stop his body's reaction. It's not the time for that.

“I can come with you,” he replies in a gruff tone that has everything to do with being Ginny's personal scratching post. He loves and hates it in equal measure. “We’ll make it a road trip.”

“Uh, why would we road trip? That'll take us a few days, Mike.”

“I'm sorry, should I consult your very busy schedule first? What else are you doing, rook?”

She pinches his side and tilts her head back to look up at him. “I'm concerned about your knees. That's a lot of sitting for consecutive days and seeing as how I don't drive, I can't contribute in that way. It's not worth you hurting to make the trip. Besides, I'm not going.”

“Gin…”

She disentangles herself from his grasp and he instantly hates not having her surrounding him. She sits with her back to him at the edge of her bed.

“I don't want to do it, Mike. I don't want to see her happy. I don't want to go through my father's things. I don't want to be reminded of what might have been if I'd just been allowed to choose something other than baseball. Nothing there is going to make me feel better about being this person now.”

“For what it's worth,” he starts. “I'm personally very glad you chose baseball.”

She turns over her shoulder and rolls her eyes at him but he can also see the way her shoulders fall and the smile that teases at the corners of her mouth.

“We can do whatever you want, but think about this for a few days, alright? Then if you decide to go, book two tickets on that flight, okay?”

  
A few days later, she does just that.

  
Tarboro in November is warmer than Mike expects but still nice. The town is idyllic in all the ways he dreamt of as a child. In all the towns and cities his mother dragged him to growing up, nothing ever felt the way Tarboro feels as they take the scenic route through downtown.

Ginny points out different things as they drive by, points out the field where she first played, points out her former high school, the park she used to ride her bike in, the ice cream shop where she kissed her first boy.

Mike chuckles, but he grips the steering wheel harder as he listens to her talk about Jake Toley and the kiss he stole. He's not entirely proud that he's jealous of not getting the opportunity to be Ginny's first kiss.

When they turn onto Ginny's street, the air in the car changes. She holds herself tighter, adopts that stoic, robot demeanor that he hates. He knows it's to protect her from the outside world, but when it's just the two of them, and she sometimes defaults that mode, it hits him harder than he'd ever admit to.

He reaches over the center console and settles a big hand over her knee. “I’m here,” he says and is grateful to see her mask crack a little.

“I know. I'm...I promise I'll try this weekend, but I feel like I should preemptively say sorry for inevitably becoming silent and sullen.”

Mike snorts. “Silent would be a true blessing, rookie.”

“You're such an ass. Why do I put up with you?”

_Because you love me_ is on his tongue in an instant, but he holds it in and shrugs. “We all have our crosses to bear.”

She can't hold in a laugh. The horsey sound warms him more than he can put into words.

Mike slows and pulls the truck into the Baker’s driveway. They sit in silence for a few moments, neither looking to move just yet. Ginny threads her fingers through Mike’s that still rest on her knee. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before she turns to look at him.

“Thank you for coming with me. In case I forget to say it or act like a jerk over the next few days...I don't want you to think I don't know how much this means, and—”

“You're welcome, Ginny,” he interrupts her. He squeezes her fingers and nods toward the door. “You ready?”

Ginny shakes her head. “Let’s do this anyway.”

Mike squeezes her hand back and reluctantly untangles their fingers to climb out of the car. He does his best not to preen or kiss the hell out of her when her hand finds his own again and she grips it tightly as they walk up the stairs at the front of the house.

Ginny rings the doorbell twice, but there's no answer. She presses her face against the sliver of a pane on the side of the door and sighs.

“There used to a key out here…” she trails off, dragging him along with her. She doesn't let go of his hand until she crouches down near planter and runs her finger along the base to pop open a hidden compartment.

A moment later, she stands back up and dangles the key in front of Mike’s face with a grin.

Ginny swiftly lets them inside the boxes filled house. The smell of fresh paint and cleaning agents permeates the air.

“Mom?” Ginny calls out, her voice ringing through the empty space.

Mike follows behind her as she makes her way through the living room to the enormous kitchen that's just as empty as every other room.

Ginny stops at the edge of the counter and picks up a piece of paper, scans it quickly and sets it back down before she turns to Mike.

“Mom and Kevin had to run out to their new place to meet the alarm company. They'll be back soon. With food apparently.”

Ginny’s glum declaration has Mike moving towards her before the thought has time to fully processes. He places a gentle hand on the back of her neck and squeezes before he speaks. “Give me a tour?”

She nods and makes a vague gesture towards the room. “This is the kitchen.”

“Smart ass.”

She grabs his hand and drags him around the lower level of the house. She proudly shows off the backyard where she used to practice with her dad and the place she began her endless work on her screwball.

He follows her happily up the stairs and into her childhood bedroom. The room is bare of furniture, and the smell of fresh paint lingers heavily in the air.

A stack of boxes sits piled in the middle of the room, a couple of them taped, but the rest open and filled to the top.

“If I rifle through here enough, will I find a poster of me?”

Mike's question is met with a roll of Ginny’s eyes. She drops his hand and Mike immediately misses the contact.

Ginny walks to the stacked boxes and peers inside, her fingers gingerly brushing over the contents she can see. Mike just watches her for a moment. He likes the subtle play of emotion that crosses her face, something she'd never give away to anyone else, but he sees it fully.

She trusts him enough to let him see. She lets him see so much more than anyone else.

She bites the corner of her bottom lip as her fingers catch on a wide, folded, glossy piece of paper. She wiggles it out of the tight space inside the box and pries an edge open before she gives a rueful smile. Paper in hand, she crosses back over to Mike and hands the item to him.

She doesn't say anything, just waits as he unfolds the square and opens up an image of himself—20-year-old rookie, cocky, fit, and with two good knees—that Ginny Baker owns.

He can't bring himself to gloat at the moment. He has no doubt he'll get there, but in that instance, he feels a bit of disappointment. He can't precisely put his finger on it, but the feeling that washes over him is closer to worry than awe. Something must show on his face because Ginny takes a step closer and rests a hand on his forearm before she speaks.

“Yes, I had your poster,” she starts with a tender smile. “It lived above my bed on that wall.”

His eyes follow her gesture before he turns back to her.

“I thought you were great. Your first year in the majors you had 37 home runs. And you were so arrogant. My dad hated watching your games. I couldn't get enough of them—of you.

“I wanted so desperately to get to the majors and play alongside you. But I have to say, the reality is better than the fantasy I used to dream up.”

Mike's eyebrows raise and he smirks. “Not like that, you perv,” Ginny says with a gentle shove. “I mean that knowing the real you is so much better than anything I dreamt of about you. Not at first, because you really ruined my hero worship within seconds of meeting you, but the Mike Lawson I know totally exceeds the Mike Lawson of my childhood imaginings. So yes, I had your poster. Feel free to gloat, but I want you to know you mean more to me now then you did back then because you're real. You're here.”

The edges of the poster crinkle in Mike’s hands as he does his best to remember they still have a season to play together. Still 162 games, plus spring training, and a hopeful post-season. He does his best to remind himself of this because he wants nothing more than to kiss her forever and never stop. He wants to pull her into him and run his lips over every possible inch of her body and discover all of her secrets, discover all the places that make her quiver and moan. He wants to know every single part of her.

A door slamming downstairs and Janet’s voice ringing out through the house cuts the tension of the moment.

Mike's not grateful for the interruption.

“I'll be down in a minute, mom,” Ginny yells back but doesn't look away from him. She steps into him, places a hand over his heart, and brushes her warm, dry lips across his before she pulls back with a smirk.

“Yeah, that's way better to do to you than a poster.”

She repeats the motion one more time before she turns and leaves a stunned Mike in the middle of the room. 


	4. open arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a soft, domestic chapter that i hope makes you smile. x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to my US peeps, happy Thursday to everyone else making it through. Much love. x

_It was barely a kiss. It was barely a kiss._

That mantra plays on a loop in Mike's head, but it isn't helping to erase the memory of Ginny's lips brushing over his.

Mike sighs heavily and pushes the blanket down to his waist, careful not to disturb Ginny's cocoon she's created around herself. He tips his head to the side to check that she's still sleeping peacefully, and is pleased to see she is.

He turns his gaze back to the ceiling, and tries again to put the simple brush of lips—with the woman he's sharing a bed with—out of his mind. He hadn't asked much about their trip, and hadn't learned more than the fact they'd be staying in a local hotel for the two days they were in Tarboro.

The hotel was little more than an updated, but quaint B&B. It meant sharing a room with Ginny, which wasn't an issue, but it also meant sharing a bed with Ginny once again since turning up at her house after finding out about Rachel's latest infidelity.

It shouldn't be a big deal, and Mike's determined not to make it one, but lying beside her this time, knowing how her lips feel against his own, even for the briefest of moments, is the most he's been mentally and physically taxed in a long time.

Ginny exhales sharply and shifts beside him. Her leg brushes along his own and she hooks an ankle over his calf.

Mike shuts his eyes tightly, picks up his head, and drops it back heavily against the pillow. Remembering waking up that first time surrounded by Ginny Baker isn't helping him relax or go to sleep or forget how soft her lips are. Or how good she smells. Or how small the spacious queen bed feels with her so near.

He contemplates getting out of bed and sleeping in the enormous chair in the corner, but the thought alone makes his back twinge.

Ginny's fingers brush down his side as she grows restless beside him. When she settles again, she's even closer to him than before—her cheek is on his shoulder, her right leg is almost completely threaded between his legs, her left leg is flush against his left side.

It's heaven and hell in one fell swoop.

Mike takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. One arm is trapped between Ginny's prone body clinging to his side. He wants to move it for many reasons, but most pressingly to alleviate the heat radiating off of her that's coursing through his body.

Gingerly, he works to wriggle his arm free, keeping an eye on Ginny’s reactions or a change in her breathing. He lifts his hand and forearm and rests them against his stomach.

“Why are you still awake?” Ginny’s voice rings out and startles him.

“Shit, I’m sorry to wake you, rook.”

“You didn’t,” Ginny replies. Her voice is husky and sleepy. She tips her head back and looks at him with half open eyes. “You seem to be thinking awfully hard.”

Ginny hasn't moved from her spot against his side. She braces her hand over his where it rests on his stomach and uses it as leverage to move so she can see him but still rest on him.

Mike doesn't move as she situates herself again. She's either devious or brilliant... but probably both.

“Not really,” Mike lies. “Just having trouble falling asleep.”

“It's it because of me?” she asks and moves her leg off of his. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” he insists even though he shouldn't because she is the reason he can't sleep, but damn it, some things are worth it. “I'll be fine. How are you holding up?”

Ginny lets out a long sigh and rolls over to her back leaving him totally devoid of her warmth. “Can we go back to San Diego Tuesday instead of Wednesday? I'm so glad I didn't agree to stay through Thanksgiving. I don't think I'd survive it. I get so angry every time I look at them together.”

Janet was cordial and happy to see Ginny, but it was tempered by wariness on both sides.

“I don't really want to ship this stuff back and have the ghost of my dad lingering more than he always does. Is that horrible?”

Mike shrugs and turns on his side to face her. “I’m the wrong person to ask about family, Gin. My own is a minefield, too.”

“If you ever want to tell me,” she starts, “I'm here. I'm actually not a bad listener.”

“Except on the field.”

She scoffs and teasingly knocks her knuckles into his stomach. “Whatever, old man. I do good listening everywhere.”

Mike grunts and drops to his back beside her. “Go to sleep, rookie. If you still feel this way in the morning, then we’ll leave. No big deal.”

“Okay,” she returns quietly. Mike hears the rustle of fabric right before her head settles against his shoulder and her arm wraps around his waist once more. She doesn't slither her leg between his and he thanks God for the small mercy. Once was more than he could handle, twice might have him begging her to marry him.

“G’night Mike,” she breathes into his shoulder. He shudders at the sensation. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for being my best friend.”

“I'll always be here for you, Ginny,” he replies and presses a kiss to her forehead. Her breaths even out after a few moments and Mike let's the rhythm soothe him into a restful night's sleep.

\---

When Mike wakes the next morning, he finds himself alone in bed. He sends a hand out over the sheets—they’re still a little warm, so it can't have been long since she left the bed. He pushes the covers down and rolls around to face the opposite corner of the room. Ginny sits in the oversized chair in the corner lacing up her runners.

“Hey,” he croaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Headed somewhere?”

She nods and gives him a gentle smile. “Yeah, a short run. I'll be back soon.”

“I'll go with you.”

Ginny shakes her head. “I won't be long. I just want to go and clear my head. Be alone for a little while.”

Mike frowns and casts his eyes away from her. It makes sense, sometimes Ginny gets in a mood where she just needs to be alone for a while. It always stings for Mike even though he knows it's not personal. Not everyone has the baggage of being left the same way he does.

He tries to clear his face and nod. “Okay. I'll be here when you get back.”

Ginny stands and walks over to him. She brushes as finger over his cheek before she lowers her head and places a kiss at the corner of his lips. It's another brief, dry thing that lasts only a moment but Mike feels it all the way in his toes.

She pulls back and smiles. “I'll be back soon, I promise. And then we will get breakfast and face my mother and Kevin for the last time until the new year.”

“Okay,” Mike manages to eke out as he watches her grab her phone and walk out of the door.

“Go back to sleep. I know you need your rest.” She tosses a wink over her shoulder and closes the door gently.

Mike falls back onto the bed and throws an arm across his face. “Fuck.”

\---

  
Ginny and Mike work quickly to sort through the things Ginny wants to keep and ship back to San Diego.

He teases her relentlessly when he finds a stack of clippings from papers that are all about him, as well as a pristine, laminated copy of his first Sports Illustrated cover.

“Want me to sign it for you?” he teases. “I’m sure you could sell if for a pretty penny on eBay.”

“I hate you so much,” she grumbles. Mike laughs but he's humbled all over again by how long Ginny has been a fan of his.

“No you don’t.”

Ginny sighs dramatically. “You're right, I don't. But I was an impressionable kid. Of course I thought you were great. I know better now.”

“Ouch. Direct hit, rook.” Mike lays a hand over his heart.

Ginny plucks the the laminated page from Mike's hand before she gives him a little shove. “Quit unpacking things or we’ll never get out of here.”

“Okay, but I really will autograph it for you. Especially if you want to hang it up in the clubhouse. Or make it poster size, you know—”

“Oh my god, will you stop?” She turns her back and rearranged items in the box in order to get it to close. Mike chuckles and helps her tape the box and put it aside.

They spend the next hour sorting and labeling, until Janet stops into Ginny's room and alerts them that she's had food delivered.

Ginny frowns and shakes her head. “No, mom. We’re almost done. I want to get these to UPS tonight so that Mike and I can head to the airport first thing in the morning.

Janet's brows pull together as she stares at Ginny. “I didn't think you were leaving until Wednesday morning.”

“Change of plans.”

“Okay,” Janet replies trying to infuse levity into her voice. “Well, you both still need to eat.”

“Mom—”

“Thank you, Mrs. Baker, Mike interrupts. “I'll make us some plates.” Mike places a hand low on Ginny's back and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I'll be right back. We're almost through, Gin. We can take a short break.”

Mike followed Janet back to the kitchen where she points out the boxes of Chinese takeout.

“I got a variety of things. And Ginny's favorite, shrimp and broccoli, unless that's changed recently.”

“No, it hasn't changed. Thanks for this Mrs. Baker.” He takes the spoon she offers up and dishes out food to both of their plates before he adds rice and some extra steamed veggies.

“You're welcome. And it's Janet, Mike. I know I probably have you to thank for getting Ginny home at all.”

Mike shakes his head. “No, she made that decision all on her own. I just offered to come along.”

“Which definitely made the difference. I know you're aware of the tension between me and my daughter. I'm just grateful she has a friend like you.”

Mike nods and arranges the full plates on one arm while he grabs some silverware with the other. “Thanks again for this, Janet.”

A small, sad smile makes her lips turn up. “Of course. And... take care of her, Mike. I can tell how much you...I mean it's pretty obvious that…”

She trails off, but Mike doesn't need her to continue. It should worry him that his feelings for Ginny are so obvious, instead, the most incredible feeling of rightness settles over him.

“Yeah,” he replies with a soft smile. “Yeah.”

 


	5. you matter to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is inspired by the musical Waitress. i hope you enjoy this utterly schmaltzy, domestic chapter. oh, and get ready for a visit from mike's mom in the next chapter. x

“Mike!”

He frowns and turns his attention away from the video game he's getting beat at by the twins. He sends a look at Blip who just shrugs and turns back to the game to capitalize on Mike’s distraction.

He sets the controller down and walks into the Sanders’s kitchen where he sees Evelyn attempting to shoo Ginny out of it.

“Please switch places with Ginny,” Evelyn says in an exasperated tone. “I’ve had to redo everything she's done so far.”

“You're the one who wanted me in here,” Ginny quips and dances away from the dish towel Evelyn swats at her. “That’s what you get for ascribing to traditional gender roles.”

“I wanted girl talk, not for you to eat everything and add way too much salt to my potatoes! Out!” Evelyn gets in one good hit with the towel to Ginny's retreating backside.

Before she leaves the kitchen, Ginny pops up on her toes and brushes a kiss across his cheek. “I'll go salvage your score, old man.”

Mike rolls his eyes but grins broadly at her. He watches her retreat and settle in beside the twins before he turns back to Evelyn who has a knowing grin on her face.

She smirks and points to the cutting board where a poorly chopped onion and celery lie. “Please finish chopping those. Your girlfriend is useless in the kitchen.”

“Not my girlfriend,” Mike mutters as he picks up the knife. He sets aside the ruined pieces in the scraps bowl and gets to work on chopping everything for Evelyn's famous dressing.

“For lack of trying or is there another reason?” Evelyn continues to stir the flour, butter, and turkey drippings for the gravy.

Mike sighs and puts the chopped vegetables in a small bowl. “What else do you need me to do?”

“You know I'm going to find out one way or another about you and Ginny, so you might as well tell me. You two are living together, Mike.”

“Yes, but not the way you're insinuating.”

“I'm not insinuating anything. Simply stating a fact. You're now roomies, which is adorable, but something has obviously changed. And I need to know what.”

Mike moves to the sink and washes his hands before he uncovers the resting dough for the rolls. He sinks his hand into the bag of flour and lightly dusts a coat across the marble counter top before turning the dough out of the bowl.

“Nothing really has changed,” he replies as he kneads the dough and breaks it off into perfectly round pieces. “I'm... it’s complicated. I told Ginny I love her, she knows, and she hasn't said it, but I know she feels the same way. But, she still has her code, and I still want to play baseball. What can possibly happen?”

Silence meets Mike's question as he continues to roll up dough and place them in the greased pans.

“You both deserve to be happy,” Evelyn says as she taps the wooden spoon against the small saucepan.

“Do I look unhappy?” Mike lifts his head and smiles.

“Happier, then. You've both had to deal with so much.”

“I'm plenty happy,” Mike chuckles and goes back to his task with the bread. “I'm in love with my best friend. I’m playing the game I love. I have two people in my life who love me enough to continually feed me and worry about me. I'm fine. So what if I don't get to be with Ginny romantically? I already have more than I thought I'd have again. Especially after losing Rachel–twice. I'm fine, Ev, I promise. If it's in the cards for Ginny and I, it'll happen. And if it didn't, it's already the most perfect relationship I could hope for.”

Mike turns when he hears a muted sniffle. Evelyn moves to the wine cooler and pulls out a bottle of white. “Okay,” she says through a watery smile. “Not okay, but it's not my life. And I'll do my best to refrain from interfering.”

Mike laughs heartily at this, drawing Blip and Ginny's attention. “We both know that's not true, but it's part of the reason I love you, Ev.”

She smiles and jostles his shoulder. “Love you, too, Mike.”

\---

“I don't think I'll ever be able to move again,” Ginny says dramatically as she snuggles deeper into the couch. After pie and cocktails to finish out Thanksgiving dinner, Ginny and Mike retreat home with a promise to return later that weekend for dressing waffles.

Mike falls onto the couch beside Ginny and props his feet onto the coffee table. He's contentedly full and warm. Dinner at Blip and Ev's is always great, but this Thanksgiving was exceptionally so.

He bites back a grin when Ginny's hand reaches over and gently tugs his beard. “I'm amazed you didn't collect food in this thing.”

“I'm not an animal,” he says as he pushes her hand away.

Ginny shrugs drops her hand to his chest and uses it to push herself upright. Mike grunts and sends a glare her way. “Easy, rookie.”

“Sorry.” She rights herself and takes her hand from his chest. She brushes her thumb across his cheek and smiles.

He waits for her to settle her weight against him, and tuck into his side like she always does, but she surprises him by swinging her legs and feet up and settling them in his lap.

She pushes her toes into his thigh and Mike has to bite back a groan. He settles one hand beneath her ankle and kneads gently.

Her eyes drift shut and a sound of pure delight leaves her lips. She scoots down the couch and settles in beside him.

Mike keeps his hands occupied, moving from her ankle to work the muscles in her calf. Her toes curl and she digs her heel into his thigh.

He soaks in her every reaction as his big, rough hand glides along the smooth skin of her leg. Mike had nearly swallowed his tongue earlier when Ginny came traipsing down the stairs in a loose, but short black dress. He'd stared so hard that Ginny asked him twice if there was anything wrong.

Ginny holds out her hand and cracks open one eye.

“What?” Mike asks.

“Gimme your other hand,” she says with a hint of exasperation. Mike puts his hand in hers. She slides her fingers through his and rests their linked hands on her thigh.

“Can I ask you something really personal?”

Mike nods. “Seriously, Mike,” she continues. “It's... you can say no, and I won't mind. Or ya know, just—”

“Ask me, Gin.”

Ginny sighs and brings her unoccupied hand up to bother her bottom lip. “How come you and Rachel never had kids?”

The question startles Mike, but it doesn't upset him per se. He must look like a deer in the headlights, however, because Ginny rushes on.

“I only ask because you're so good with Gabe and Marcus. You... you have so much love to give. And I'm sorry I brought this up if it's a sore subject or you and Rachel tried and couldn't…”

She looks away from Mike and lets her words trail off.

“Hey.” He waits for her to look back at him before he continues. “It's okay. It was never the right time for Rachel and me. Or that's what we kept telling ourselves. Rachel had this perfect, idyllic childhood, and when she found out about mine and met my mom, I think her desire to have kids with me sharply declined. She never came out and said it, but I just had that feeling. Not too long before I found out she was cheating, I brought it up again. The plan was for me to retire, and stay home so she could keep working. I was so ready. Then I found out about David and well... that was that.”

Ginny swings her legs off of Mike's lap and hurries to close the space between them. She wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders. She almost manages to sit in his lap.

“For what it's worth, I meant it. I think you'd be the best dad.”

Mike wraps his arms around Ginny and holds her close. He's unsuccessful in keeping thoughts of brown-skinned children with dark hair, deep brown eyes, and even deeper dimples out of his head. He wants that. He wants a family with Ginny.

Mike relishes the feeling of Ginny in his arms. She tucks her head into his shoulder and moves her hands up and down his back.

Mike doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but he’s so content to stay just like that, to hold her tightly and not need anything more. He could easily become addicted to just holding her in his arms.

“Have I mentioned I’m grateful for you, Gin?” he breathes into her ear. Her only reaction is to tighten her arms around him. “I know I wouldn't have been able to make it through all of this again without you. So, thank you.”

He leans back far enough to get a glimpse of her face and places a kiss over her eyebrow. Her eyes are watery and wide, but no tears fall. Mike's heart starts to beat rapidly when Ginny brings her hands to his face.

“I'm so grateful for you, too. You're the best thing that's ever been mine.”

Mike swallows hard. His chest aches with longing. His hands flex and rub against her back as her hands continue to lovingly hold his face.

Even though the words haven't passed her lips, there's no doubt in Mike's mind that Ginny Baker loves him, and that he's the luckiest.

\---

Mike's phone wakes him the next morning. He reaches for the offending object on his nightstand and brings the brick of glass to his face.

“Shit,” he mutters as he sees his mother's name scroll across the screen. Her name continues to flash until the call ends, but Mike waits, and sure enough, her name flashes across the screen again as the phone buzzes in his hand.

He double taps the sleep button and sends her to voicemail before unlocking his phone and checking the date.

Without fail, the end of November/start of December brings the third phone call of the year from his mother. The calls always begin with a tale of his mother's latest surefire money-making scheme and end with a plea for Mike to deposit money into her account.

Before the phone can ring a third time, Mike switches it off and tosses it beside him on the bed.

A knock sounds at the door and Mike props himself up in the bed as he says come in. Ginny peeks around the edge of the door, a smile on her face.

“What are you feelings about skiing?”

Mike frowns and scoots back against the headboard. The covers are draped across his lap and he's shirtless. He crosses his arms over his chest and doesn't miss the way Ginny’s eyes take him in.

“Do you mean in general, or specifically?”

She shrugs and opens the door wider as she steps into the room. She moves gracefully and drapes herself across the foot of his bed. The strap of her bright purple tank slides down her left shoulder, and the hem creeps up her waist as she squirms and settles in.

Mike draws his eyes away from the golden brown skin of her taut belly and back to her warm, bright eyes.

“I mean for Christmas. How do you feel about skiing? I like the idea of spending Christmas in something called a chalet.”

Mike laughs. “We probably have to get skiing cleared with the front office since technically we're not supposed to participate in any other sport. Also, if you hurt yourself on the slopes, there isn't a Padre who wouldn't kill me. Starting with Al.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'm a pretty decent skier and snowboarder, I'll have you know, but fine. Do you want to go?”

“Where is this magical place and how'd you find it?”

She sighs. “Park City, Utah, and Ev recommended it when I mentioned wanting to go someplace snowy for the holiday.”

Mike shrugs and gives a short nod. “Okay. Sounds promising.”

“Great!” she says and the smile that lights up her face could make Mike agree to just about anything.

Ginny climbs off the bed and heads for the door, but Mike's voice stops her. “Who all is going?”

“Just you and me,” she replies with a tilt of her head. Her brows are furrowed but she still smiles. “Who would I rather spend my Christmas with than you?”

Ginny sends one more soft smile his way before leaving his room and shutting the door with a soft snick.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this on my phone, please let me know if anything looks wonky/out of place.


	6. and stumble along the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chalet in the mountains. NYE. And drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. I miss them so much, but I also started a new job not too long ago, and frankly, it's kicking my ass. I do hope you enjoy this edition. x

The burst of wintery air and chime of the motion sensor pull Mike away from his reading. He chuckles as Ginny comes in from the snow-covered patio off the back of their cabin. Her hair has a light dusting of powdery snow. Her cheeks are ruddy with color, and her eyes sparkle when she turns toward him after shutting the heavy glass door.

“Not had your fill of the snow, yet?” Mike asks as he watches Ginny toe off her heavy boots and take off her puffy jacket. She drapes it over a too nice piece of furniture, but Mike’s given up convincing her to hang it somewhere else.

She rushes over to the couch and Mike has just enough time to set his book aside and stop her ice cold hands from sliding between his sweater and undershirt for warmth.

“Hey, brat,” he says as she giggles happily beside him. “I'm not your personal space heater.”

Ginny struggles against his hold but it's mostly for show. Mike slides his rough, warm hands from her wrists to sandwich her hands between his own. She sighs contentedly and scoots to rest her head on his shoulder.

“I love it here,” she breathes against his collar as he warms her icy fingers.

“I can tell. Ev made a perfect suggestion. Of course.”

“I guess Utah is lovely too,” she begins, “but I meant right here. With you.”

Mike swallows hard and keeps his eyes trained on her hands. Since arriving in Park City, Ginny’d become a little freer in her manner with him. Her touches linger in a way they've not before. She says more words to him strictly about them than she ever has. She reaches for his hand—in public—and doesn't let go.

Ginny wriggles her hands out from between his and tucks into Mike’s side. Her much warmer hands sneak between his sweater and undershirt—her new favorite place—and her lips brush against his neck before she settles against him once again. Each breath she takes tickles Mike’s neck and tests his resolve to not ask for more.

Mike loops an arm around Ginny's back and breathes in the fresh, clean scent of her and the mix of crisp winter air.

Their ski time is limited by the front office with very specific requirements: no black diamonds, no snowboarding, and keep a relatively low profile.

Ginny complains about the snowboard rule but enjoys her skiing time to the fullest while Mike occasionally joins her.

“Can we go out for dinner?” Ginny asks.

Mike pulls away in order to look at her, brow furrowed. “Sure, but I can make us dinner, too. I don't mind.”

Ginny pulls her hands from under his sweater and Mike manages to bite back a sound of disappointment.

“You're forever taking care of me. I can't contribute in the kitchen unless you want to get food poisoning, so let me treat you.”

Mike shakes his head. “I don't mind cooking or doing it often. It's not a chore or anything, Gin.”

Her smiles grows wide and sunny and Mike has to take a deep breath to stop himself from blurting out something he doesn't need to say. Not again at least.

“I know you feel that way, but still. Let me take you out to dinner. It's the least I can do to say thank you for being here and making this a wonderful Christmas.”

Mike stares at her for a beat before he nods. The pink, gold sky and setting sun cast a soft glow around the room and an even softer glow around Ginny. He sighs and nods. “I'll always be here for you. However you want me.”

Her cheeks darken. She reaches over and links her fingers with his and turns on her most radiant smile. “Steak sound good?”

He nods and opens his mouth to reply as his phone vibrates on the table. Ginny leans forward and picks it up, frowning at the name on the screen. She hands it to Mike and quickly pulls her hand away.

“Sorry, I shouldn't have looked,” she mumbles as she stands from the couch. “We can go to dinner whenever you're ready.”

Mike frowns, his eyes tracking her as she walks to the back of the cabin. He looks down at his phone and curses before he hits ignore and powers down his phone.

He leaves the couch with a wayward groan and follows Ginny to her room at the back of her house.

She's sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed staring unhappily at her phone.

She doesn't acknowledge that he's entered the room, but it doesn't matter. He sits beside her on the bed, leaving more space than he usually would between them.

“Jackie is my mother,” Mike says without preamble. “I imagine you've noticed she's called a lot over the past few days and I keep ignoring it because I don't want to deal with whatever she wants. Not because Jackie is some secret or whatever other scenarios you've inevitably thought of because I’ve been too annoyed with her to share that with you.”

Ginny looks up from her phone, her lips turned down as her eyes roam across his face. Her shoulders drop and she heaves a sigh. “Sorry.”

Mike shakes his head and chuckles. “No need to be, rookie. If some random man’s name kept flashing on your screen and you ignored it every time I was around, I'd be pretty annoyed, too.”

Ginny tilts her head back and groans. “That’s still not a viable excuse for not asking instead of assuming. You're my best friend, I should've asked.”

“And I should've said something.” Mike shrugs. “My mother tends to be a very tense topic for me though. One I liked to avoid after years of tip-toeing around the topic with Rachel.”

Ginny turns her head and grins ruefully. “Moms.”

Mike chuckles. “Yeah.”

Ginny untangles her long legs and scoots until she's flush against Mike's side. She rests her palm on top of his thigh before she speaks. “So, what's the deal with you and your mom?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “How much time you got?”

She squeezes his thigh and smiles. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. We don't have to talk about it now, but ignoring something won't make it go away. We both have expert knowledge in that.”

“Yeah.” Mike’s mouth turns up at the corners when Ginny's lips brush against his cheek and stay there a beat longer than usual.

The entire trip to Park City has been a test of Mike's resolve to let Ginny set the pace. A day hasn't gone by since they got there that Mike hasn't wanted to kiss her or make love to her or lay here out on the couch and worship every inch of her. When she looks at him a little too long or holds him tighter than she usually does or lets her lips linger too long near his, the ache that never goes away gets heavier like he's wading into a strong current that's about to drag him under.

Mike supposes he should be grateful that there are two bedrooms in the cabin, but he can't deny he's a little disappointed when he realizes he wouldn't be sharing a bed with Ginny in their idyllic winter cabin.

Mike sighs when Ginny rests her chin on his shoulder and wraps her arm around his arm dragging it into her lap.

“My mom’s a grifter,” Mike begins without preamble. “When I was young, she'd have me help her. We never stayed in one place for too long. I didn't have a whole lot of friends growing up. And I met my dad in the worst of ways. He still lives in Poway. He's still married. Has other kids.”

Mike speaks in a rush. He can feel the prick of tears at the back of his eyes and the knot lodging itself in his throat. It gets worse when Ginny throws her arms around his shoulders and holds him so tight.

He very nearly begs her not to leave him in that moment.

He drops his head against his chest and breathes deeply while Ginny holds him tight, her breath steady against his neck, and her heart thumping against his arm.

“You don't have to tell me any more,” Ginny murmurs against Mike's shoulder. “Thank you for telling me at all.”

Mike curls an arm around Ginny’s arm that lies across his chest. “She usually stops calling by now. She figured out a long time ago that calling my business manager nets her the same result. I don’t know what she could possibly want and I don’t want to get into it with her.”

“Then don’t,” Ginny replies. “Save it until we get home. We’re on vacation, so no real life worries until then. Those are the rules.”

Mike huffs a weak laugh but nods in reply. “Do I need to get dressed up for you to take me out?”

Ginny lifts her head, her breath tickling across his cheek. “I mean, you could put in a little effort for a free meal, yeah?”

“Brat,” Mike says with a peal of laughter. “Fine, but only for you, rook.”

  
\----

“I can't believe you're willingly wearing a tux.”

Mike stops fiddling with his bowtie and turns over his shoulder to see Ginny perched in his doorway, her long, lean figure even more tempting and impressive in the bronze gown Evelyn talked her into wearing.

Mike's breath catches as she moves out of the archway and towards him. There's a slit up the left side of her body that displays her perfectly toned, strong leg encased in heels he knows she hates.

She stops in front of him, pushes his fingers away from his tie and starts to expertly fix it for him.

He tilts his head back enough for her fingers to work, but not enough that he can't see the look of sheer concentration on her face.

“Where'd you learn to do this?” he asks in a low voice.

She smirks and lets out a huff of breath that tickles his neck. “Finger dexterity is very important to a pitcher, I'll have you know.”

“Mhmm,” he replies unconvinced.

She chuckles and keeps at her task until she's straightening his perfectly done tie. She takes a small step back and beams up at him. “Well, now you look like you're going to a black-tie event.”

He bites back a groan and holds his arm out until she slips hers through it. “A black-tie party for New Year's is so ridiculous.”

The remainder of their time spent in Park City was a dream neither wanted to end. Saying goodbye to their chalet proved more difficult than either of them thought it would be. There were no expectations on them there. No one bothered them, they spent their time exactly how they wanted and did precisely what they pleased.

Coming back to San Diego was a bit of a slap in the face.

“But Evelyn insisted,” Mike continues. “And we all know it's a bad idea to go against Evelyn Sanders.”

“I'm in heels because of Ev.”

Mike quirks his lips. “Well, you look incredible.”

Ginny blushes and Mike finds it more endearing than he should. “Ev picked basically everything.”

“The dress is great, but that's not why you look incredible.”

Ginny squeezes his bicep and throws a devilish smirk his way. “You've cornered me into complimenting you. Even with that ridiculous thing on your face, you look exceptionally handsome this evening, Mike.”

He attempts to narrow his eyes at her, but it holds no heat with the way his lips turn up at the corners.

The doorbell rings alerting them that their car service for the evening has arrived.

Mike places a hand on the small of her back. “After you.”

He lets her walk a little ahead, but manages to pull the door open for them both.

When it swings open, the diminutive woman on the other side of the door gasps and takes a step back. Her eyes flicker between Ginny and Mike as she takes in their attire before they settle on Mike.

“Hi Mikey,” she rasps. She smiles but it doesn't look natural. There are no lines around the corners of her mouth or across her forehead.

“Mom?” Mike exhales. His hand travels from Ginny's back to her elbow, drawing her closer to him. “What are you doing here?”

Jackie Lawson’s eyes drift between Mike and Ginny. They trail to Mike's hand at Ginny's elbow before meeting his with a small smile. “I've been trying to reach you for a few weeks now.”

“I know,” Mike says gruffly. “Why are you here? How'd you know where I'd be?”

Jackie waves a hand. “I asked some folks and took some guesses. I just wanted to see you, Mikey, to talk to you for a few minutes. It's about your dad.”

Mike goes stock still beside Ginny. His face loses all color and Ginny swears she can hear his teeth grind together he's clenching his jaw so hard.

“We’re on our way out,” Mike replies.

Jackie purses her lips and turns her calculating glance to Ginny. “Since my son's not going to introduce me, I'll introduce myself. I'm Jackie Lawson.”

She holds out her hand and Ginny shakes it briefly. “Ginny Baker.”

“Yes, I know. The whole world knows. You're quite something, Ginny.” Her smile softens at the edges and if Ginny weren't so leery of her, she'd find her marginally charming.

“Mikey,” Jackie starts, swinging her attention back to him. “Your dad isn't doing well. He's...he's not doing well. He wants to see you. He called and asked me if I would get you to go see him.”

His grip on Ginny's elbow relaxes but he steps even closer to her when he does. “I didn't know you spoke to him, and no. I don't want to go see him.”

“Honey, please.” Jackie reaches into the bag on her shoulder and pulls out a small, cream-colored envelope. “I'll go, but I wanted to leave this with you. And I hope you'll make some time for me in the new year. I miss you, Mikey.”

Mike stares at the envelope but doesn't reach for it until Ginny clears her throat beside him. He takes the light square and tucks it inside his tux jacket.

Jackie takes a step back and smiles weakly. “Have a good night, honey. I hope I get to see you soon. It was nice to meet you, Ginny.”

Ginny gives her a weak wave and watches as she descends the steps of her little bungalow and makes her way to a car waiting at the curb.

Ginny breaks Mike’s hold on her and reaches out to put a hand on each of his arms, steadying him and drawing him away from the door. She toes the door shut with a solid snick before she turns him to face her fully.

“Mike, are you okay?”

He shakes his head and straightens his jacket, his gaze trained on his impeccably shined shoes. “No, but she wouldn't be my mom if she didn't leave a wake of devastation in her path.”

Ginny places a hand on Mike's cheek. “Hey,” she says softly and waits for him to lift his gaze. Her breath catches and her heart aches when she sees the sheen of tears in Mike's eyes. “Let's stay home tonight.”

“No,” he says tersely. “I'm not letting her win. Not again. Or whatever’s in this letter. In fact—” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls the letter back out. He gently releases her grip on his arm and turns to walk into the kitchen.

He opens the cabinet beneath the sink and tosses the letter into the small garbage bin located there.

“Mike, you shouldn't—”

“That letter doesn't say anything that I want to hear. I can guarantee you that, Baker.”

She frowns. “You don't know that.”

“I do,” he says as he turns the sink on and rinses his hands. He shakes them dry, then reaches for a paper towel to wipe the excess before he tosses that in the bin, too. “You ready to go?”

“We absolutely don't have to go tonight.”

“Sure we do,” he says as he tosses her a roguish grin. “First, Evelyn would kill us, and second, the world deserves to see you in that dress.”

Splotches of color dot her cheek as she shakes her head. “They really don't. And Evelyn would be pissed for a while, but she'd get over it...eventually. You probably have a lot on your mind. No need to stand around at a party and think about that.”

Mike shrugs. “I won't be thinking about it. That's tomorrow's problem.” He catches her frown before she clears her expression. “What?”

“Nothing. It just seems we’re more alike than I thought.”

He steps closer to her and leans down. “That a bad thing?”

She shrugs. “It’s not always a good thing, but in general, I wouldn't put it in the negative column.”

“Ah, rook,” he grins. “It's okay to admit you're totally into the Mike Lawson experience. It's good to admit these things to yourself.”

Ginny’s lips pull up slightly at the corners even as her shoulders drop. “I would think you'd know by now that you don't have to pretend with me. I’m not—”

“Ginny,” he cuts across her. “I’ve been dealing with this and her and all this bullshit for longer than you've been alive. I'm fine.”

Ginny takes a step back and Mike immediately regrets his words. Before he can open his mouth and apologize, however, the doorbell rings and Ginny’s walking away from him.

\-----

  
“Why are you over here pouting?”

Mike looks up from his glass of neat Bourbon. The stool beside him scrapes against the floor as Blip plops down beside him. He clinks his half-full glass against Mike's before he takes a big sip.

“I’m not pouting,” Mike grumbles as he picks up his own glass.

“Yes, you are. You could put my kids to shame. And don't think I haven't noticed you've been over here while Ginny has gone out of her way to avoid you.”

Mike grips the glass until the etchings make an imprint on his hand.

“My mother dropped by before we left and I… acted like a jackass.”

Blip whistles lowly and shakes his head. “So why haven't you tried to fix it?”

Mike furrows his brow and shrugs.

“Man,” Blip begins with a sigh. “I'm trying not to peer too far into whatever it is you and Ginny have going on, but I'm also not stupid. There's something going on, and I recommend trying to fix this and not hide or run away from your problems. That's not going to fix anything. Do you care about Ginny?”

“You know I more than care about her,” Mike replies.

“Then stop being an idiot on New Year’s Eve and figure this out. Besides, with Ginny annoyed with you, Evelyn’s time is monopolized and this is one of our few kid-free nights.”

Mike rolls his eyes even as one side of his mouth kicks up against his will. He pushes his glass across the bar and stands. He gives Blip a decisive nod and takes off across the room to find Ginny.

He finds her easily—honestly, he never lost track of her, and doubted he ever could—and places a gentle hand on her elbow.

“Can we talk?” he leans down and whispers in her ear.

She turns and eyes him briefly before she nods, and excuses herself from the small group of WAGs.

Mike walks slightly behind her with a hand on her lower back. He steers her towards the venue’s beautiful outdoor space that overlooks the marina.

When they get outside, she trembles in the slightly cool December air. Mike shrugs out of his jacket and quickly wraps it around her shoulders.

“I'm sorry,” he says as he lifts the collar up around her neck.

“I shouldn't have been short with you, or shut down, but everything about my mother is hard for me. She's managed to drive a wedge in the most important relationships of my life, and I don't want her to do that with you, Gin. You matter more than—you mean so much to me. I don't know what I'd do if you stopped being in my life.”

Ginny pulls the lapels of Mike’s coat tighter around her. “I already told you, Mike, I'm not going anywhere. I want to...I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me things even when they're hard.”

“That's not easy for me, Gin.”

“It's not easy for me, either. You know that. I told you about my mom. I haven't told anyone that Mike. Ever. Not Ev, not even my brother.”

The admission hits him harder than he expects. His heart beats wildly in his chest as he takes a step closer to her and runs his thumb over the apple of her left cheek. “No one else?”

She shakes her head.

Mike drops his hand from her face and circles both arms around her waist. He pulls her into him and holds her close.

“Thank you,” he murmurs in her ear, unsure of how else to convey the level of trust she's bestowed on him. That had to mean more than hearing her say the words he so wants to hear.

They stay that way for a few more moments, neither of them willing to leave the comfort of each other's embrace.

“I'll try,” he begins softly. “I'll try, Gin, but just promise me something.”

“Anything,” she replies immediately.

“Promise if you start thinking about leaving or... anything like that, promise you'll tell me, promise you won't just go.”

Ginny’s arms hold him tighter and her lips brush against his neck as she pulls her head back to look at him. “I promise, Mike.”

He swallows hard and nods. “Good.”

Her smile is light, but her eyes hold a million emotions Mike can't quite place.

“Ready to go back in?” she asks.

“Not quite yet,” he says. He cups her face in his hands and takes a deep breath. “Can I ask for one more thing?”

“What is it?” Her voice is so soft that if Mike weren't so close, he'd miss it.

“Can I kiss you? We probably can't—shouldn't—kiss at midnight in front of all our friends and co-workers, but—”

Ginny presses forward and cuts off the rest of his speech. Mike's been replaying that brief teaser of a kiss they shared in Tarboro more than he cares to admit, but this? This is better than anything he imagined.

Her lips are soft, dewy, and taste strongly of raspberries.

Distantly, Mike can hear his jacket drop to the ground as she raises her arms and wraps them around his neck.

The sounds of the water and the sounds of the party fade even more into the background as every moment etches itself into his memory: her fingers in his hair, his hands at her waist, her breath against his mouth, the tease of her curls against his forehead.

He wants to live in that moment for the rest of his days.

When they finally pull apart, out of breath, they look at one another dazed.

She smiles and runs a thumb across his bottom lip. “I don't think passion pink is your color.”

He dips his head and kisses the middle of her palm. “Thank you.”

Her smile is so gentle and so real that it causes Mike’s breath to catch in his throat.

She reluctantly takes a step back and reaches down to pick up his jacket. She holds it out for him, but when he takes it, he places it back around her shoulders.

He wraps her in his arms and just stays there, content to hold her for as long as she'll let him.

“Can we stay here for a while?” she asks.

Mike nods. “Of course.”

 


End file.
